


dead man's blood

by killerqueenwrites



Series: family business – supernatural au [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Croatoan, Found Family, Gen, Monster of the Week, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Vampires, With A Twist, also with a twist, much angst, they're going through it in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: “Stark,” a familiar voice says.“Natalia!” Tony exclaims, taking a seat on the couch. “Natasha, Natalie, whoever you are now.”“Up early, Stark,” she drawls. “Planning your next PTA meeting?”He relaxes into the banter, relishing in the comfort of it. “We’re all fine, thank you for asking. Where are you?”“Roanoke, Virginia,” Natasha says, “dealing with a vamp problem.” She pauses. “You know I hate asking for help, Tony, but...“or, Peter's first vampire hunt doesn't exactly go as planned. Quite the opposite.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: family business – supernatural au [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484696
Comments: 29
Kudos: 165





	dead man's blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).



> me? updating this series so soon? well that's because it's BLONDSAK'S BIRTHDAY 🥳🥳
> 
> one year ago today i accidentally updated this series on your birthday. this time, it's on purpose, i swear. thank you for being so supportive of these fics and for being a lovely person in general. this fandom is lucky to have you and your talent. i hope your day is as wonderful as you are!! 💕
> 
> warnings: blood, weapons, language, discussions of death relating to a major character :)

Howard Stark was many things.

A successful businessman and CEO, an entrepreneur who built his tech company from the ground up. A husband and father, even though his son seemed to fade into obscurity not long after he graduated college. (Estranged, some whispered, but the media didn’t dare to dig much further.) A public persona.

Howard Stark was also a hunter, well-known, widely feared, ferocious.

Howard Stark is dead. His body was found inside his locked car, almost ripped to shreds. Almost every inch of the interior was soaked in blood.

By the time his wife dies years later, in what friends and witnesses will cryptically refer to as a ‘hunting accident’, Howard Stark will be the victim of the most famous unsolved murder in the last thirty years.

* * *

Tony doesn’t sleep as much as he used to. He jolts awake more often than not, expecting the all-too-familiar strains of ‘Dear Mr Fantasy’ to blare out at any moment. It never comes, but still, he lies awake, gasping for breath, staring at the ceiling.

Once he calms down, he wanders. Down to the kitchen, to the library, to the training room. Usually, he finds himself outside Peter’s door, just watching his kid sleep, watching him breathe. This morning is no exception.

Peter’s alive. No more loops. He doesn’t even remember them. And he didn’t see what Tony saw in the throes of ghost sickness. The visions.

_He’s going to die anyway._

_Shut up_ , he fiercely tells the Loki in his head, _and fuck off_. He steals one last glance at Peter before turning away, heading down the stairs into the kitchen. He checks the day off on his calendar – Thursday. Not Tuesday – and flicks the coffee machine on.

His phone vibrates and he checks the number before answering: ‘Triple Imposter Burner 2’.

_“Stark,”_ a familiar voice says.

“Natalia!” Tony exclaims, taking a seat on the couch. “Natasha, Natalie, whoever you are now.”

_“Up early, Stark,”_ she drawls. _“Planning your next PTA meeting?”_

He relaxes into the banter, relishing in the comfort of it. “We’re all fine, thank you for asking. Where are you?”

_“Roanoke, Virginia,”_ Natasha says, _“dealing with a vamp problem.”_ She pauses. _“You know I hate asking for help, Tony, but–“_

“Surely even you and Barton can handle a few bloodsuckers?”

_“That’s the thing. They’re not feeding. They’re – it’s like a huge recruitment drive. They’re just changing people.”_ He can hear her frowning, scowling at the information escaping her. _“We’ve been here a week already, trying to figure out any kind of link between the victims – if we could work out a pattern, we could protect the next targets. But it’s just random. No connections at all.”_

“Huh,” Tony says. “And _you_ , Natalia Romanova, want my help?”

_“Come on, Stark, we both know you like a good vampire hunt.”_

“I’ll have to ask everyone else.”

_“How diplomatic of you,”_ she drawls.

“Hey, I’m not a dictator. Besides, kid’s never had a vamp case before.”

_“Aww, baby’s first vampire hunt. How cute.”_

“I don’t know if he’s ready, Nat.”

_“Steady, Mama Bear. What better way to start than with four experienced hunters with him?”_

Sounds good. Except Tony hates vampires. Hates them. Hates them viciously, with a ferocity that scares even Rhodey sometimes. He doesn’t want Peter to see him like that.

“I’ll let you know. Probably by lunchtime. You know teenagers.”

_“Wow,”_ she says, _“you’re really leaning into the whole dad thing, huh?”_

“Yeah, well, the kid grows on you.”

_“I can’t wait to meet him.”_

“Hey.” Tony sits up straighter. “I didn’t say–“

_“I’ll text you the hotel address.” Click._

* * *

“What’s wrong?” Rhodey says the minute he stumbles into the kitchen, where Tony’s on his second mug of coffee and his third batch of pancakes.

“Apart from everything?” Tony drops another mutilated pancake on the pile. “Natasha called. Apparently we’re joining them down in Virginia.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a vamp case.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Could’ve just said no.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “To Natasha?”

“It’s a fucking eight-hour drive and the kid has homeschooling to do.”

“We kind of owe them. They sorted everything out for Peter at the beginning, all his IDs and shit.”

“Tony, there’s no – you go from zero to one hundred real damn fast when leeches are in the picture, is what I’m saying.”

“I know.” He’s not proud of it, but it’s useful, so he lives with it.

“And you think the kid’s ready for vampires?” Rhodey presses his lips together. “Not that he’s not capable, but is he ready?”

Tony exhales through his nose, scraping a pancake that looks almost edible off the bottom of the pan. Rhodey’s right to ask; vampires aren’t ghosts or monstrous creatures. They look human, and can act it, too. Still, he knows the kid, and Peter’s a good hunter. “As ready as you can be.”

“Fine,” Rhodey says. “Virginia, here we come.”

* * *

Peter’s dozing, halfway to waking up, when someone knocks on his bedroom door.

“Pete?”

He grunts.

Mr Stark snorts. “Breakfast’s ready. Get a move on, we got volunteered for a case.”

Now that’s interesting. “What is it?”

“Vampires in Virginia. You finally get to meet Barton and Romanoff.”

Finally. More hunters. “Oh, cool. Gimme a minute.”

“There’s also coffee.”

“You’re the best!” Peter calls.

“Uh-huh,” Mr Stark says, his footsteps already moving back downstairs. After a minute and a huge yawn, Peter rolls out of bed and follows him.

“Afternoon,” Rhodey says, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other scrolling through his phone.

“It’s, like, not even ten.”

“What’s it like to be sixteen?” Mr Stark pushes a cup of coffee towards Peter, followed by a plate of pancakes.

“Exhausting.”

“I’m sure. Okay, quick revision. Vampires. Hit me.”

“Stake through the heart. Holy water or salt water, but all that usually does is slow them down for a bit. Dead man’s blood will knock them out and weaken them. Sunlight. Silver weapons. And don’t rely on religious symbols because you never know who they were as a human.”

Rhodey grins. “Exactly.”

“And you gotta be fast,” Mr Stark says. “Aware of your surroundings at all times.”

“Well, yeah.” _Obviously_.

“Okay, eat up. Pack a bag. I know it’s short notice, so I’ll let you off doing your schoolwork for a bit.”

“Thanks, _Headmaster_.”

Mr Stark flicks him around the ear, grins when he yelps, and ruffles Peter’s hair on his way to collect weapons from the training room.

* * *

Tony drives half the journey, swapping out after about four hours. He thinks about offering to let Peter practice, but one glance in the rearview confirms the kid’s out for the count, headphones in, dead to the world.

Tony reaches back, grasps his wrist. Pulse. Good. Alive.

“It’s Thursday,” Rhodey says quietly.

“Thursday. Good.”

“Gonna pull over in a bit for lunch. You want anything in particular?”

“Not a pig in a poke.”

“So, literally anything?”

“Yup.”

“Okay,” Rhodey says with a grin, “‘cause I saw a vegetarian buffet about half a mile back.”

“ _No_.”

“Okay, then I saw a sign for a Denny’s. Should be right up ahead.”

“Yep; that’ll do.” Tony reaches back to Peter again, gently tapping him. “Hey, kiddo. Food stop. Look alive.”

Peter sighs and peels open one eye, giving Tony a sleepy smile. “Time ‘s’it?”

“About two. Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah.” Peter stretches, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “Uhh, need t’pee.”

Tony nods. “We’re about halfway there. Grab a nap the rest of the way, if you want. We’ll probably have to go out tonight.”

“‘Kay.”

Tony smiles back, pats his knee again. They’re starting to do the same thing he does with Rhodey sometimes – this talking without words, being so in sync with another person. He can tell what Peter’s thinking from the way his nose scrunches as he tries to stifle a yawn, the way his lips quirk as he checks his phone. He’s slotted into Tony’s little family like he was always meant to be here, turned their lives upside down in the best possible way. Even if the kid didn’t need saving, protecting from whatever’s coming, Tony knows he’d do anything for him. They’re a product of tragedy, thrown together in the worst circumstances imaginable, but he’s Tony’s kid now.

Tony loves him.

“You’re staring,” Peter says without looking up from his phone.

“Checking you haven’t nodded off again.”

Rhodey flashes his blinker and turns off the highway towards the rest atop.

“I’m not that tired.”

“No? I thought being you was exhausting?”

Pater stops texting to stare at Tony blankly. Tony flashes him a wide smile in return.

* * *

“Okay, hotel should be right up here,” Mr Stark says, squinting against the late evening sun. “Let’s get inside before the sun goes down – Nat said this place was crawling.”

“There!” Peter says suddenly, pointing at the sign, and Rhodey swerves to make the turn. “Oof–“

“Sorry,” Rhodey says, spinning the wheel. “Damn, parking lot looks full. Hope they’re not busy.”

“Hope they’re not full of leeches,” Mr Stark mutters.

“That, too.”

Peter feels for his knives, sheathed at his hip. He doesn’t know why Mr Stark seems jumpier than normal about this case – might be everything that happened in Florida, might be the fact that there’s apparently something dangerous and powerful hanging around, waiting to make its move – but his unease is palpable.

“All right, grab your shit,” Rhodey says, pulling into a spot. “I’d say call Romanoff, but she probably knows we’re here already.”

Peter swallows down a sudden jolt of nerves; he’s not just meeting new people, he’s meeting other _hunters_. He thinks back to the first time he met Mr Stark and Rhodey, how aloof they seemed, how intimidating. Dangerous.

“They’re gonna love you,” Mr Stark says, like he can read his mind.

“What if they don’t?”

“They will. Natasha’s a softie. Deep down.”

“How deep?”

Mr Stark grins and opens the door without answering. Peter sighs, grabs his bag, follows.

“Good evening,” the receptionist says as they enter the lobby. “I’m afraid we’re very busy today, gentlemen. We might only have one double left, but I’m sure we can get a camp bed out for your son.”

“That all right, kid?” Rhodey says without missing a beat.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“All right,” she says, “I just need your card. There’s a nice diner just down the road if you’re looking for food – different specials every day.”

Mr Stark hands her his credit card, panic dancing in his eyes. “Sounds, uh, good, thanks.”

“One double room, and here’s your key, sir. I’ll send someone in to set up the other bed.”

“Thank you very much,” Mr Stark says. “Come on, kid. Nearly your bedtime.”

Peter rolls his eyes and turns to follow him, but stops when he sees a figure waiting in the hall. She has deep red hair and a lithe figure; Peter knows enough to recognise the shape of a gun on her hip, a knife in her boot.

“Nat!” Mr Stark says, and her expressionless face breaks into a warm smile.

“Long time, no see,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “Rhodey.”

“Hey, Romanoff.”

And then her piercing gaze turns on Peter. “And this is your kid, huh?”

“Hi,” Peter manages, “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“I know,” she says with a gentle smile. “Nice to finally meet you. Tony’s been a bit of a hermit lately.”

“And you’ve been down south for months,” Mr Stark counters, and holds his arm out. Peter ducks into the sideways hug, grateful that the attention has moved elsewhere. “Which is the worse crime?”

Natasha looks like she’s trying not to smile. “Come on. Clint’s in our room. Just two doors down from yours, if I remember correctly.”

“Well, you always do,” Tony says as she opens the door to her room. “Barton.”

“How you doing, Stark? Rhodes?” The man is sitting on the bed, peering down the length of an arrow shaft.

Rhodey nods. “Good, man. Good to see you.”

Peter waves, hoping he doesn’t seem too awkward. “I’m Peter.”

“The legal adoptee,” Barton says, with just a hint of a wry smirk.

“Yeah.”

“All right,” Mr Stark says, clapping his hands together. “You asked for help. Let’s get to work. Are we going out tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha drawls, “there’s a lovely bar a couple streets over. Gets real lively after eleven.”

They stare at each other for a minute, daring the other to break.

“Clint found the nest,” she says eventually, “or one of them, probably. There’s so fucking many of them now.”

“Are they even feeding?” Rhodey says.

“Not at the rate they seem to be changing people. It’s…unsustainable, which makes this super fucking weird. I’ve never seen vamps so careless.”

“Weird,” Mr Stark agrees. “Okay, you wanna hit it now, or wait until morning?”

Barton shrugs. “At least if we go now, they’ll be active.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey says with a short laugh, “and dangerous.”

“Pete,” Mr Stark says, “grab that grey bag over there. That’s got my stakes in.”

“Yep.”

“Look, man, you want our help or not?”

“Boys,” Natasha says warningly. “I think we should go tonight, but we need a vote.”

“Yeah, tonight is fine,” Mr Stark says. “At least we can get a look at what we’re dealing with before they all go and hide from the daylight.” He accepts one of the stakes Peter holds out to him, weighing it in his hand. “On the plus side, that should give the hotel enough time to set up the kid’s bed.”

Barton snorts.

“All right,” Rhodey says, “grab your stuff and let’s head out.”

Natasha nods, reaching over to grab one of her bags. “Are we splitting up? The vamps seem spread all over, so that’s probably quicker.”

Mr Stark and Rhodey both look at Peter, a silent question. He remembers their first case, remembers marvelling at their nonverbal communication. Somehow, without noticing, he’s learned to do it, too.

“Yeah,” he says, “we can do that.”

* * *

The warehouse is quiet, but Tony knows that doesn’t mean anything. Peter shifts beside him, a stake in each hand.

“Stay on your guard,” Tony tells him, half-wishing he hadn’t agreed Rhodey could go off on his own.

Peter nods. “Are you okay?”

_This kid_. It’s not his job to be checking up on Tony. “I’m good, buddy.”

“You seem kinda…on edge.”

Tony shoots him a rueful grin. “Don’t really like vampires.”

“Does anyone?”

“You know what happened to my dad, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty sure it was bloodsuckers. We never could prove it, but that’s what it looked like. Ever since, I’ve always been extra careful to get rid of every single one I can. Met Rhodey on a vampire hunt, actually.” Tony smiles, again without humour. “Never liked the old man, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me either, but still. I do my job. Saving people, hunting things. Family business.”

“So what assets am I inheriting?”

“Identity fraud,” Tony retorts, and starts towards the warehouse. Peter snorts, trails after him. “Help me with this door, come on. Careful, don’t wanna make too much noise.”

“Mm-hm.” Peter grabs the door and braces his feet, but it swings open without too much effort. He’s on alert instantly, fingers wrapped around one of his stakes.

Tony goes first, trusting Peter to watch his back as he peers through the door. It’s quiet, empty, so he nods for the kid to follow. Strangely, for a warehouse, it seems divided into rooms. More places to hide.

He tilts his head towards the closest door, and Peter nods once, reaching for his flashlight, and throws the first door open.

Nothing. It’s almost creepily silent.

“Natasha did say this was a nest, right?” Peter murmurs

“Yup.”

They move to the next room; shadows dancing as Peter shines his flashlight around the walls.

Something rustles behind them and Peter jumps, spinning, pointing his torch towards the noise. There’s nothing there.

“Damn,” Tony says, laughing under his breath, “guess I’m not the only one that’s jumpy–“

“Mr Stark–!” Peter’s yell is cut off as an arm wraps around his neck, white teeth flashing in the gloom behind his shoulder.

Tony tries to lunge forward, but a hand grabs his throat and yanks him back.

“Hunters,” something hisses in Tony’s ear. His skin crawls. Peter meets his eyes, visibly panicking.

_Shit_ , Tony thinks, _shit, shit, shit–_

Peter cries out, but something hits the back of Tony’s head and he falls into darkness.

* * *

“Mr Stark?”

_Huh_ , is Tony’s first thought, _I’m not dead._

“Mr Stark!”

_Peter_.

Tony forces his eyes open, squinting in the dull light, and tries to take stock of everything.

Head: pounding. Arms: tied behind him with something tough and scratchy, most likely rope. Weapons: gone. Peter: tied to a chair facing him, one cheek red as if he’s been punched.

“Kid,” Tony says, instantly alert, “you good?” He scans what he can see of Peter, finding no bite marks. _Thank God._

“Fine,” Peter whispers. “Are you okay? You got hit pretty hard.”

“I’m good.” Tony tugs on the rope, but it won’t budge. “Shit. How long was I out?”

“Not that long.”

So not long enough for anyone to realise something’s wrong and come looking. Tony nods, smoothing his expression over. _Don’t scare the kid_. “How many did you see?”

“I counted seven, but it sounds like there’s way more. Probably some more that aren’t here, too.”

“Ooh, he’s smart, isn’t he?” a different voice says. “What a clever little hunter. Stark’s little soldier boy.”

Shapes are moving in the dusty gloom, human figures that disguise the real monsters. They circle around Tony and Peter, moving between them, behind, in front. Their movements are constrained, but still animalistic, predatory. Peter sets his jaw, but Tony knows it’s only to stop it trembling.

“Oh, he smells so _good_ ,” one of them moans, tipping Peter’s head back, baring his neck.

“Control yourself.” It’s a woman, stepping forward until she’s standing in front of Peter. “Remember why we’re here.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tony says, loud, brusque, trying to get all the attention on himself instead of Peter. “You’ve been busy. What, LinkedIn not working out for you? How many people have you changed, huh? How long until there’s more vampires than humans in this town?”

“We know what we’re doing, hunter.” She doesn’t so much as glance at him, but keeps gazing at Peter. The kid glares back.

Slow, almost seductive, she lifts her arm, bares her teeth, and, never taking her eyes off Peter, drags her fangs across her wrist. Blood spills out almost immediately, and Tony knows.

“No,” he snarls, “get the _fuck_ away from him. Don’t even _think_ about it.”

She doesn’t acknowledge him. Peter shifts in his seat, the only visible sign of his fear.

“Don’t, lady – hey! You do this, I’ll tie you up in the sun and leave you to burn. Don’t you _dare_ –“

Another vampire appears out of nowhere, behind Peter’s chair, and clamps his hands either side of the kid’s face, holding him still. Peter’s eyes widen, and that’s the only warning before she lunges forward and presses her wrist against his mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Tony shouts, desperate. The ropes are holding firm as he struggles, but he has to get free, _he has to_. “Do not swallow it!”

“Don’t listen to him, baby,” she purrs. “You know you want to.”

Peter looks like he’d rather throw up, but the vampire reaches her other hand out and pinches his nose.

_Shit._

“Come on, kid. Just a little sip.”

Peter shakes his head as much as he can, but they’re holding him too tightly, and he can’t do anything but try and gasp in a breath–

A door slams open.

“Hunters!”

The two vampires don’t react. Tony can hear fighting, but louder than that is the sound of Peter choking and gagging, and he thinks he might go mad if he has to listen to another single second–

“They’re here!”

“Shit!” the woman snarls, and finally, finally pulls her wrist away from Peter’s mouth just as the door to Tony’s left flies open and hits the wall.

Natasha, her hair flying as she thrusts a stake right through the closest vampire’s chest and yanks it out again. Rhodey’s right behind her, a stake in each hand. Something slices through Tony’s bindings, and it’s Barton, quiver strapped to his back.

Peter lets out a pained yell and Tony dives across the room to him, catching the knife – one of Peter’s – that Rhodey tosses without even having to look. He cuts the rope, helps Peter to his feet.

“‘M gonna throw up,” Peter groans. Blood is painted around his lips, smeared down his chin. He’s going to feel like shit, but that’ll be the worst of it. They didn’t bite him. They didn’t bite him.

“Later. Here.” Tony hands him the knife and yanks a stake out of a nearby vampire’s body. It crumbles to dust. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Peter nods and spins away, blade glinting, and Tony lunges into the fight, or what’s left of it. The vampires are already pulling back, snarling as they leave, and within moments the warehouse is quiet.

“Can’t leave you two alone,” Rhodey mutters.

Tony rolls his eyes, turning to look for Peter. There, in the middle of the room. “Kid, come on. We gotta get that shit out of you.”

Peter nods, starts forward, but nearly pokes his eye out on the arrow levelled at his head. Tony and Rhodey lunge towards him in the same breath.

“Barton–“

“What the fuck–?”

“Wait.” Natasha yanks Tony back by his wrist. “Don’t get any closer.”

“Let go of me. That’s my kid–“

“Stark.” Barton grabs Peter’s arm, pulls it out to the side, rolls his sleeve up.

No. _No_.

Peter stares at the wound like he hadn’t noticed it before, bewildered, young, frightened, and turns back to Tony. “Mr Stark?”

“Stay there,” Natasha hisses. “Did you swallow any of it?”

“I…”

“Of course he did, it’s all around his mouth,” Barton says.

“Shit,” Natasha says, but she lets go of Tony’s arm.

No. Not this. He’d take the piano over this. He’d take the fucking breakfast burrito over this. Not this, not Peter becoming–

“Oh, fuck,” Rhodey mumbles, and Tony, stunned speechless, agrees.

Peter was bitten.

* * *

“You know what we have to do,” Natasha says quietly. They’d made their way back to the hotel, all piling into one room. Barton hadn’t stopped aiming an arrow at Peter the entire time.

“ _No_.” Mr Stark’s moan is something approaching animalistic. He’s sitting on the bed, bent over, tugging at his hair.

Peter knows. Even if Mr Stark’s ragged, panicked breathing wasn’t enough of a clue, he’s seen too many episodes of _Buffy_ to be able to ignore what comes next.

“Mr Stark,” he says quietly.

Natasha give them both a sympathetic look and moves away.

“Shut up, Peter,” Mr Stark hisses.

“Tony.”

Mr Stark stops, slowly lifting his head to stare at Peter.

“It’s okay.” It’s not. It’s the furthest thing from okay, but Peter needs to believe otherwise or he’ll lose his fucking mind.

He’s turning into a vampire. He’s going to be everything Mr Stark hates, everything he spends his life fighting against. They’re going to kill him. He’s going to die in a crappy motel, sixteen years old.

“ _Peter_ ,” Mr Stark whispers, and he’s breaking, falling apart piece by piece.

“How…?” Rhodey’s voice falters “Who’s going to…?”

“I can,” Natasha says softly. “Neither of you should–“

Should watch him die.

“We only have until sunrise,” Barton says. “I’m sorry, Stark.”

Mr Stark covers his face with his hands and shakes his head.

That’s a few hours. An excruciating eternity, and yet no time at all. One of them is going to have to kill him. Unless…

“I want to watch the sunrise,” he says firmly.

Everyone turns to look at him.

“You said I have until the morning, right? And vampires burn up in the sun. I want – I want to see it. And then none of you have to…”

Rhodey covers his mouth and turns away. Mr Stark buries his face in his hands again.

“You have a few hours, kid,” Natasha says, her lips pulling down in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

“This is east, right?” Peter says as they pick their way across the motel roof.

Tony doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what his voice will sound like. They find a spot, sit shoulder to shoulder, both of them breathing fast and shaky.

They only have a few minutes left.

He’s seen vampires burn, seen them crumble and flake away until there’s nothing left. What will it feel like, he wonders, as his child turns to dust beneath his fingers? Will he feel the same scorching heat as Peter or just ash, brushing against his skin as it dissolves with the breeze?

“God,” he whispers, “God, Peter, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Peter says, “Mr Stark, it’s _okay_. I chose this.”

He means the roof, the sunrise, but also this job, this life, _Tony_. He’s ready, calm, accepting.

Tony could live fifty more lifetimes and never be ready to say goodbye to Peter Parker. A thousand years of Loki’s misguided preparations could never be enough.

_I trust you_ , Peter had said, all those months ago. He’d said it two fucking weeks ago. Tony’s failed him in the worst way imaginable.

_Maybe we can save him_ , he’d told Rhodey, all naive hope and useless fucking optimism.

_And what if we can’t?_ Rhodey had looked at him with pity because he knows Tony, knows he’s good at a lot of things but that keeping the people he loves safe isn’t one of them.

_He’s going to die anyway_. Fuck Loki. Fuck him to hell and back. Fuck him for being right.

_It’s okay_ , Peter had whispered, not because he wasn’t scared, but because he didn’t want to upset Tony.

“You’re so brave,” Tony whispers. “So so brave.”

“I’m trying,” Peter says, “but I don’t – I don’t wanna go, I don’t–“

_God_. “I’m here.” Tony flinches as the sun hits his closed eyelids. _Let it be quick. Please let it be quick_. “I’m right here, kid.”

“Mr Stark–“

“It’s okay, it’s okay–“ Tony says. “Jesus – I love you, kid–“

“Mr Stark.”

Peter doesn’t sound like he’s screaming or sobbing in pain, so Tony chances a look.

Peter stares back, his face painted golden in the light, and holds out his hands in front of him. He’s confused and scared and inexplicably in one piece, whole, _alive_.

* * *

“Try everything again.”

“We’ve done it all three times, Barton,” Rhodey says with no small amount of exasperation. “Silver knife. Holy water. Star of David. A crucifix, just to be sure. He sat on the roof in direct sunlight.”

“I don’t understand,” Natasha mutters. “We saw him swallow the blood. They _bit_ him. This shouldn’t be possible.”

Peter shivers and huddles further into his blanket.

Mr Stark has disappeared, probably to have a breakdown, which is entirely understandable. Peter’s starting to get why false executions are such a cruel form of torture. He feels ill, shaky, cold.

He’d been ready to die, willing to just sit there and…

“Could he be…immune, or something?”

“Clint, that’s _insane_.”

“Maybe he didn’t swallow any of it,” Rhodey says.

“Maybe, but…”

They’re talking about him like he’s not even there. Peter sighs and gets to his feet, trembling only a little less than he was before.

“Hey, whoa!” Barton barks. “Sit down.”

Peter folds his arms. “I’m going to find Mr Stark.”

“Yeah, not fucking likely. Sit there.”

“Barton,” Rhodey says warningly. “Kid, we’re gonna get breakfast. Want anything?”

As if on cue, Peter’s stomach growls. “Man, pancakes sound so good right now.”

“Yeah, get your blood sugar up,” Rhodey agrees. “See? He wants food. His stomach is rumbling. He doesn’t have the goddamn fangs. Let him go, Barton.”

Barton’s eyes follow him with suspicion the whole way to the door, so Peter makes a point to walk through the patch of sunlight coming through the window as he goes. Natasha snorts.

He makes his way down the hall to their room and lets himself in, wondering where Mr Stark might be if he’s not in here.

“Mr Stark?”

“Kid?” His voice comes from the bathroom. “Shit, sorry. One sec.”

It’s more than a sec, but eventually Mr Stark appears, eyes red.

“Sorry,” Peter says automatically. Logically, he knows none of this is his fault, but still. It feels like it is.

Mr Stark smiles, something soft and sad. “You – in one of the loops, one of the ones I told you what was happening – you said sorry. Just like that. Like any of this is on you. What are you apologising for, _not_ turning into a bloodsucker?”

Peter shrugs and sits down on the bed. “What – this is weird, right?”

“As I understand it, yes.”

“I…didn’t turn into a vampire.”

“No.”

“Is this – what’s different…about me?” He stares down at his hands.

“What a weirdly specific thing.”

“Right?”

Mr Stark sits on the bed beside him, taking his hands and squeezing them. “Whatever happened, kid,” he says roughly, “I’m really fucking glad about it.”

“Yeah, you’re glad?” Peter says with a snort. He tries not to think about the rooftop, the way he’d started to beg not to go, the way Mr Stark had closed his eyes. “Um, Rhodey said he was gonna get breakfast. Do you want anything?”

“Biggest fucking cup of coffee there is.” Mr Stark grasps the back of Peter’s head and pulls him close, presses a kiss to his temple. It feels soft, safe, like Uncle Ben tucking him in and reading _Peter Pan_ in his gentle voice.

“I love you too,” Peter says. “I mean – I know we were both kinda panicking up there, but–“

“Yeah.” Mr Stark exhales, only a little shakily. “Okay, I need to – threaten people. Mostly Barton. He likes to gossip.”

“Gossip?”

“Pete, this can’t – we need to keep this quiet, all right? There’re some hunters out there that’ll shoot as soon as they hear about anything slightly to the left of normal. Until we know what’s going on with you, no one hears about it. And preferably not even then.”

“Oh.”

“Shit.” Mr Stark looks down. “I’m sorry, kid. I keep promising I’ll look after you, and shit like this keeps happening.”

“You can’t help it.”

“But I should be able to. Right? ‘Cause you’re my kid. That’s my job. Looking after my pain-in-the-ass kid.”

Something warm curls around Peter’s chest. _You’re my kid_. “You are. You do. Life is just – keeping you on your toes.”

“More than a little.” Mr Stark runs a hand over his face. “Okay. All right. They’re probably talking about us in there. Let’s move.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Peter says.

“I could be doing a lot worse right now, let’s put it that way.”

* * *

“Okay, so we can assume that was the central nest you two stumbled into. The others around it must just be clusters. We might stand a better chance if we go out in the day, only because there’s so many of them.” Natasha taps the spot on the map and looks up at Tony.

“Oh, now you want to go out in daylight?” he says, scathing. “ _Now_ you think they might be fucking dangerous?”

“Vampires are always dangerous, Stark,” she retorts, “but clearly, these aren’t operating like normal vamps. So we change how we do things, too.”

“So, we split up again?” Peter says, and Tony’s stomach drops. Although he still looks pale, there’s a determination on his face. But God, Tony can’t shake the image of him on the roof, staring at the sunrise, waiting to die.

“Uh, what makes you think you’re coming?” he says without bite. It’s an empty threat, especially after what happened with the _shtriga_.

Peter stares back, one eyebrow raised. “Out of everyone here, who’s apparently immune to vampire bites?”

“Slow your roll, kid,” Rhodey says. “We don’t know that’s what happened. You might’ve just got lucky, not swallowed any blood.”

Peter makes a face like he doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t argue, either.

“So?” Barton’s sitting on a chair in the corner, fiddling with his arrows. “We staying together this time? ‘Cause they know going near the kid is gonna spin Stark into a panic attack.”

“Clint,” Natasha says warningly. “But yes, we stay together. Don’t let them bite you. Obviously.”

“Too soon,” Rhodey mutters.

* * *

Once again, the warehouse door swings open silently. Peter tightens his grip around his stake, brushes his fingers against his knives.

Nothing.

Rhodey nods for them to move in further, and Peter catches sight of the chair he’d been tied to – earlier? Last night? He remembers something sliding down his throat, hot and thick. It made him want to vomit.

He must have swallowed the blood. Which means–

“Pete,” Mr Stark murmurs, “eyes front.”

They move into the next room, Barton casting his eye over everything, tracking the entire room with his nocked arrow.

There’s nothing. No sound. No movement.

“Any other levels?” Natasha says. “A basement, maybe?”

“No, unless you’ve found a trap door.”

“Maybe they moved out of here because we found it?” Barton says. “I’m thinking we hit another one. There’s nothing here.”

Natasha nods. “They’ve taken over a bar a couple blocks away, too. We’ll try there.”

“And if they’re not there?” Peter says. “Shouldn’t we at least split into two groups?”

“Usual groups?” Natasha suggests. “You three know how you work, we know how we work. Don’t let the same thing happen again.”

“Be careful,” Rhodey tells them. “Now, where’re we going?”

* * *

“This doesn’t look like a vampire hangout,” Peter says as he dips his knife into the jar of blood Tony’s holding out. Dead man’s blood. “Apart from all the curtains being closed.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“This is, like, peak suburbia. What a weird place to have suburbia. Roanoke. Isn’t that the colony that disappeared–?”

“You’re rambling, buddy,” Tony says, nudging him gently. In fairness, the kid’s probably due for a mental breakdown. He’s been handling everything a little too well.

It’s true, the house doesn’t look like a typical place for vampires to set up shop, but nothing these vampires have done has been within normal parameters, so why start now? At least they’re in daylight this time. They have a way to escape, to trap the vampires even in their own nest.

“You two go in the front. I’ll head around the back,” Rhodey says, taking the jar and coating the tip of his own blade.

“Thought you couldn’t leave us alone?” Peter says.

“You’re on probation, that’s for damn sure.” Rhodey turns and disappears down a path that leads around the back of the house.

“He loves us really,” Tony says. “Front door, let’s go.”

He picks the lock, making sure Peter can have a good look at how he does it. The door swings open with barely a creak, and they step into the hall.

For a second, he wonders what the fuck he’s doing, doing almost the exact same thing as last time when he couldn’t even keep Peter safe, but he pushes the feeling down. If they try anything again, he won’t even leave their ashes behind.

The kitchen is empty, as is the lounge, and a potential door to a basement that Peter opens turns out to just be a cupboard under the stairs. Rhodey makes his way down from the first floor, frowning.

“Nada,” Tony says.

“Nope.” Rhodey puts his hand on a door Tony assumes is the bathroom. “We better link back up with the others.”

It happens in the space of a second. Rhodey opens the bathroom door, and a shape flies out, shrieking furiously. Peter ducks, throwing something at her – holy water, from the way she screams and recoils. By the time her exposed skin has stopped smoking, Tony has a stake pointed at her heart and Rhodey has a knife pressed against her shoulder.

“You again,” Tony says with venom. It’s the same vampire who’d caught them in the warehouse, who’d fed Peter the blood.

“Could say the same to you,” she hisses.

Peter climbs back to his feet, the bottle still ready in one hand, a knife in the other. Tony automatically moves between them, not letting the stake waver in its aim.

“So,” the vampire says, smiling at Peter with her fangs on full display, “you did survive.”

_What the fuck?_ “You knew?” Tony says. “You knew he wouldn’t change.”

“Maybe.”

Tony swallows down every instinct telling him to strike and nods to Rhodey, who jabs her with the knife in the shoulder.

“Fuck!” she gasps. “…dead man’s blood?”

“Surprise.”

She snarls weakly, staggers, and passes out. Tony lets her fall to the floor.

“Um,” Peter says, “ _what_?”

“I don’t know, kid.” Tony pushes away the anger. There’ll be time for it later. Now, he’s just cold and detached. There are answers to be had – finally – and he wants them. “Rhodey, help me. Tie her up in that chair by the window, then tell Nat and Clint we have this locked down.”

They share a glance while Peter’s staring at the vampire on the ground. _I’m about to do some fucked-up shit, so get the kid out of here._

“Okay,” Rhodey says warily, but does as he’s asked, hauling the vampire to a chair in the kitchen and tying her wrists tightly behind her. He can see the change in Tony. “Kid, let’s head out and call the others. Keep a lookout.”

“Lookout for what? They’re not going to storm the house in broad daylight.”

“Peter,” Rhodey says. “Let’s go.”

Peter shoots Tony a worried look, but follows Rhodey out of the room. Tony waits until he hears the front door shut, then walks slowly to the window, wraps his fingers around the cord for the blind, and pulls.

The vampire jerks awake with a scream, writhing in the ropes as she tries to move away from the strip of sunlight searing into her arm. She’s still weak from the dead man’s blood, though, so Tony lets the blind drop closed.

“Morning,” he says bluntly. “Nice bit of role reversal here. Always good to shake things up.”

“Stark,” she says, baring her teeth.

“Got a few questions.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“No?” Tony twitches the blind, just for a second, just a flash of sunlight, but she still cries out in pain. “Wanna reconsider?”

“Screw you, hunter.”

“I’ll pass,” Tony says, and tugs on the cord again. The vampire howls. “What did you know about Peter? How did you know he wouldn’t change?”

“I didn’t – I didn’t know – _stop_!”

“I warned you,” Tony hisses. “This is what happens when you touch my kid.”

She lets loose a ferocious growl in response, but it tapers off into a scream.

Tony drops the blind again. “Answer the questions.”

“Fuck you and your brat.”

With a sigh, Tony reaches for the cord.

“Stop!” the vampire blurts. “I don’t know.”

“Not good enough.”

“I’m telling the truth!” she cries. “I don’t know anything about the kid, except I had to try to change him – something told me to do it – I had a dream.”

_Peter had a dream_. “What happened? What did the thing say? Did you see it?”

“No, I didn’t see it. It just talked.” She frowns, wincing as the burn starts to heal over. “It said when the kid came, I had to change him. It said it was a test. That’s everything, okay?”

“A test? For what?”

“I don’t fucking know!” she shouts. “But apparently he passed!”

“That why you were changing everyone around town?” Tony says. “Looking for the kid?”

“Trying to get someone’s attention. And it worked. Until you killed them all. I _made_ them. They were my family.”

_Killed them all? We’ve barely killed ten_. “They were _people_ ,” Tony spits, “and you killed them.”

“I gave them a new life.”

“You made them monsters.”

“Well, isn’t that what you do? Kill monsters?” She bares her teeth. “What would have happened if your kid had changed, huh? What would you have done? Would you kill him?”

_I don’t – I don’t wanna go, I don’t–_

“But really,” she continues, “what human can survive a vampire bite? What _human_ is immune to the change? I think, deep down, you know. You know that the boy you’re trying so hard to protect is just as wrong and unnatural as everything you hunt, everything you kill. Deep down, you’re afraid that one day, you’ll have to kill him, too. He’s a dead man walking–“

Tony turns abruptly and stalks out of the room. His ears are ringing, his fists are balled.

She’s just trying to fuck with him. That’s all. Problem is, it’s working.

“Hey.” Natasha’s face swims into focus in front of him, creased with concern. “You good?”

Tony nods, grateful for a distraction. “Damn, you got here fast.”

“We were on the way,” she says. “Bar was cleared out, and so was the hardware store we thought was a hangout. Not a peep anywhere. Rhodey says you got one?”

“In the kitchen. You want to ask her what’s happened to the rest?”

“Clint and I have this,” Natasha says. “Go get some air.”

“Next time you want help, find a case where everything’s normal.”

“Normal? Us?” Natasha tilts her head and smirks. “You should know better by now, Stark.” With that, she’s gone, pulling a plastic bottle of viscous red from her pocket – dead man’s blood.

Tony passes Barton on his way out of the house – they share a curt nod – and squints against the sunlight. Peter smiles as soon as he sees him.

“Hi! You were in there for ages.”

“Uh, was I?” Tony grimaces. “Sorry.”

Straight away, Peter frowns. “What’s wrong?” Too perceptive for his own good.

“Tell you later.”

“Tones–“

“I will,” Tony insists, “when I know we’re alone.”

It’s Rhodey’s turn to grimace. “Shit. Still, looks like this is all wrapped up. Weird as fuck, but I’ll take it.”

_It was a test_. “Oh, yeah,” Tony says shakily, “could’ve been a lot worse. Way, way worse.”

Peter does the thing he’s perfected, where he ducks under one of Tony’s arms and huddles into his side, and then they each pretend it’s solely for the comfort of the other. “They’re all gone. Like the colony.”

“Roanoke,” Tony says. This is all too weird, too fucking weird. Like something they can’t see is nudging them along a board, laughing at each new development.

Natasha slinks out of the house, brushing some dust off her jacket.

Rhodey nods a greeting. “You get anything out of it? We know where all the other bloodsuckers went?”

She shrugs. “Just kept saying ‘they’re gone’. Couldn’t tell us where or why. Just _gone_.”

“You killed it?”

“Yep.”

“Good,” Tony says. “So, the vamps have all disappeared.”

“So it would seem,” Natasha says. “So many people just – vanished.” Her eyes slide to Peter, just for a second.

Tony catches her meaning. _He could’ve been one more_.

“All right!” Barton says loudly, clapping his hands together as he walks out, and the tension is gone. “Who’s ready to get the fuck outta this place? ‘Cause I am.”

* * *

“Tell me you didn’t miss this,” Natasha says. She’s stretched out on the roof of the car, lithe and dangerous. She reminds Tony of a cat; he’d forgotten that about her. “On the road, watching the sunset. Good old days.”

“Kinda,” Tony says. He’s cross-legged, wondering if he can ever see the sun again without remembering how Peter turned his face to it and waited for the end. “Didn’t have my kid in the old days, though.”

"I like him. Ballsy kid."

"Yeah."

“It’s cute how much you love him,” she says without judgement. “Dangerous, too.”

_He’s your weakness._

“I need to tell you something, but you have to promise not to suplex me off this car.”

“I can promise nothing of the sort,” she says, a smile curling around her lips that stops abruptly when she sees his face. “What?”

“Loki isn’t dead.”

There’s only been a few times Tony can remember when Natasha’s careful mask has cracked. It’s happening now. “ _What_?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You stabbed him.”

Tony shrugs a little. “Well, he’s back, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything except fucking with people. Me, specifically. Guess he is the god of mischief, and not world domination–“

Natasha smacks him around the back of the head. “ _Grebanyy idiot_! This changes everything. The Outrider in New York wasn’t rogue–“

“Will you _listen_?” Tony hisses, looking over his shoulder. Peter and Rhodey are leaning against the hood of the Audi, talking, apparently oblivious. Good. “Strange was there. He can confirm it. And he kept saying something about the Outriders not belonging to Loki.”

“What, he just got a loan of some demon dogs for a weekend? From who?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _Day mne sily_ ,” she mutters. “And there’s some weird shit going on with your kid.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, with a smile that probably looks like a grimace. “We’re working on it.” He hears the trunk open behind them and watches warily as Barton fishes around, pulls out a few chilled bottles of beer, and starts to make his way towards Peter and Rhodey.

“Uh…”

“Sorry. Intervention,” Tony says quickly, and hops off the roof, striding after him. “Barton! No! He is _sixteen_ , and he needs to get his learner hours in! Do _not_ give my kid road beer!”

His purposeful march is halted when he gets a mouthful of holy water, and has to stop to spit it back out. Somewhere, Rhodey is roaring so hard, it sounds like he’s about to piss himself.

“What the _fuck_ , Barton?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Tony Stark?”

Tony flashes him the finger and stalks the rest of the way to his car, but can’t help a grin when he sees Peter on the ground, clutching his chest as he laughs.

“Yeah, hilarious.”

“Your _face_!” the kid wails, alarmingly on the cusp between laughing and crying. Rhodey is still wheezing, shaking his head.

“Yep, haha, let’s all laugh at Tony trying to stop his kid getting a DUI before he’s even legally allowed to drive. Height of comedy.”

“Okay, okay.” Rhodey tries to clear his throat and pulls Peter back to his feet. “We heading? Was that our cue?”

“I’m saying goodbye to Natasha and Natasha only.”

“Understandable,” she calls, already walking towards them. “You boys take care. Try and keep in touch more, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tony says, and hugs her.

“And you.” She turns to Peter. “Be _careful_.”

“I will.”

Tony waves to Barton, already in the shotgun seat with his feet on the dash, and gets a wry salute in return.

“You look after yourselves,” Natasha says.

Rhodey nods. “Yeah, and you. Good to see you.”

“Are you really gonna let me drive?” Peter says as she leaves.

“Never practiced on a freeway, have you?” Tony says. “Wanna give it a go?”

“Not really.”

“That’s the spirit. Just stay on the outside and pull in to the first rest stop you see if you’re really freaked out.”

Peter eyes the keys in Tony’s hand with trepidation, but nods and takes them.

“And I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Okay?”

“I know,” Peter says, in that trusting way of his.

Tony ruffles his hair before stepping around to the shotgun seat. “Sorry, honeybear. You’re in the back.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Rhodey says. “I’ve seen the kid’s driving. I ain’t getting in there with him at the wheel.”

“What you gonna do, Uber? For eight hours?”

“I value my life.”

“Rude,” Peter says with a sniff. He rolls his sleeves up as he slides into the driver’s seat, and Tony catches sight of the barely-healed bite mark of his forearm. It still looks red and angry, barely at the scabbing-over stage.

“We’d better bandage that first,” he says quietly. “Keep an eye on it. I don’t think we cleaned it out. The last thing we need is you getting an infection.”

Peter nods, running a thumb over the wound.

“Battle scars, kid,” Rhodey says, who’s apparently given up and climbed in the back. He pats Peter on the shoulder. “Now, try and get us home without killing us.”

“Nuh-uh.” Tony snaps his fingers. “Give me the first aid kit. It’s in the back somewhere.”

“Where is _somewhere_?”

“If I knew, Rhodey, I wouldn’t have said _somewhere_ , would I?”

Peter watches them bicker with a grin.

“All right.” Rhodey says, producing the little plastic box. “One bandage, coming right up. Hey, we have antiseptic in here. Why the fuck have we been pouring whiskey on ourselves? What a fucking waste.”

Peter winces as he dabs the cream on, but doesn’t flinch away, and Rhodey presses gauze against the wound and tapes it down.

“All right, you're good to go.”

“Thanks.” Peter turns the key and pulls his phone out, scrolling until he finds a song he likes.

“Uh,” Tony says, “what are you doing?”

“House rules, Mr Stark.” Peter sends him a shit-eating grin. “Driver picks the music.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at [akillerqueenwrites](https://akillerqueenwrites.tumblr.com), or my main blog [akillerqueenyouare](https://akillerqueenyouare.tumblr.com). come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. i've also made a twitter, [@killerqueenao3](https://twitter.com/killerqueenao3) , if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!


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